Harry Styles One Shots

The Jealousy Divide

Y/N stood at her kitchen counter, scrolling through her phone and occasionally glancing at the simmering pot of pasta on the stove. The scent of garlic and herbs filled the air, but her focus was elsewhere. A notification popped up, and she smiled, tapping the screen to reply.

Her fingers were mid-text when she heard the front door open and close. Harry's familiar footsteps echoed down the hall, his presence like a magnetic force that always shifted the atmosphere. She glanced up just as he appeared in the doorway, his curls slightly disheveled, a gray hoodie hanging loosely on his frame.

"You're cooking," he said, his voice neutral but tinged with something she couldn't place.

"Yep," she replied, trying to gauge his mood. "I thought we could have a quiet night in."

Harry nodded, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "Who were you texting?"

The question caught her off guard. "What?"

"Your phone." He gestured toward the device still in her hand. "You've been glued to it since I walked in."

Y/N frowned, slipping the phone into her back pocket. "It's just Ethan. He sent me a funny video."

"Ethan," Harry repeated, his jaw tightening.

"Yes, Ethan," she said, turning back to the stove. "You remember him, right? My friend from work."

"Oh, I remember him," Harry said, his tone sharper now.

Y/N stiffened but kept her voice even. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you talk about him a lot," Harry said, pushing off the doorframe. "And now, apparently, you text him a lot too."

Her hands froze over the pot. "Harry, he's a friend. That's it."

"Is he?" Harry asked, stepping closer. "Because it seems like he's around an awful lot for just a friend."

Y/N turned to face him, her patience beginning to fray. "What are you trying to say?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he hesitated. Then the words tumbled out, sharp and cutting. "I'm saying that maybe you're spending too much time with him."

"Too much time?" she repeated, incredulous. "Harry, we work together. Of course we spend time together."

"It's not just work, though, is it?" Harry countered. "You're always texting him, laughing at his jokes, bringing him up in conversation. Do you even realize how it looks?"

"How it looks?" Y/N's voice rose, her frustration boiling over. "Harry, he's a coworker and a friend. Nothing more."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, his voice lower now but no less intense.

Her mouth fell open in shock. "You can't be serious. You think there's something going on between me and Ethan?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of anger and something deeper—something vulnerable.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted finally. "But it's driving me crazy, Y/N. The way you light up when you talk about him, the way you drop everything to reply to his messages..."

She shook her head, disbelief coursing through her. "This is ridiculous, Harry. Ethan is just a friend. You're the one I'm with. You're the one I love."

"Then why does it feel like I'm competing with him?" Harry's voice cracked slightly, the raw edge of his emotions breaking through.

Y/N felt a pang in her chest, but her frustration outweighed her sympathy. "You're not competing with anyone, Harry. You're the one making this a problem."

"Oh, so it's my fault now?" he snapped, his temper flaring.

"I didn't say that!"

"But that's what you meant," he said, his tone bitter. "You're acting like I'm crazy for feeling this way."

"Because you are," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "You're blowing this out of proportion."

Harry's eyes darkened, and he stepped back, shaking his head. "Fine. You know what? Just go hang out with Ethan. You've gotten really good at that."

The words hit Y/N like a slap, and she stared at him, stunned.

"That's not fair," she said, her voice quieter now.

"Isn't it?" Harry challenged. "You spend so much time with him, maybe you should be with him instead."

"Harry, stop," she said, her heart aching at the pain in his voice.

He looked at her, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't want to feel this way, Y/N. But I can't help it. I see how easy things are between you two, and I wonder if I'm enough."

Y/N's anger melted away, replaced by a wave of guilt and sadness. She took a step closer to him, her voice softening. "Harry, you are enough. More than enough. Ethan is just a friend, but you're my everything."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching hers. "Then why does it feel like I'm losing you?"

"You're not," she said, reaching for his hand. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. But you have to trust me."

"I do," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just hard sometimes. Seeing how close you are with him..."

She squeezed his hand, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. "Harry, you're the one I love. You're the one I choose every day. Ethan is a friend, but you're my partner. My home."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then he nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. I just... I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," she said, pulling him into a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she might slip away.

"I'll be better," he murmured into her hair.

"We both will," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

They stood there for a long time, the tension between them slowly dissolving. And for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like they were truly on the same page, ready to face whatever challenges came their way—together.